Feeling Something
by Smudges of ink
Summary: "So they pull them a bit closer, kiss them a bit harder. Anything just to feel something. A spine hitting a wall, fingertips searching. Searching to find the one they lost in the person in front of them. Maybe that's why she went to him. Maybe that's why he kept coming back."
1. Chapter 1

A/N- a few of you may recognise this story as I recently uploaded it. A reviewer made me aware of some mistakes that I'd made and I thought it'd be best to fix them and then start over again.

This is an interpretation of the aftermath of war. It may not be everyone's cup of tea, and may be completely inaccurate to some, but the story will discuss some issues young people face after living through a traumatic experience.

Please bear with me, I'm young and rather inexperienced. And extremely nervous to be sharing my writing haha. Hope you enjoy! Reviews are welcome

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><p>Adults seem to have a warped perception of life as a teenager. The issues they sob over are disregarded, they're written off as a result of hormones. A pile of homework is nothing to bellow about, an argument with a friend shouldn't make you lose your breath, make you teeter on your feet. If you want to see what pressure really is, you should experience life as an adult.<p>

Because nothing says a 'stress free life' like a slurred declaration of 'loving' words, fogged by a cloud of memories that will hit you full force in your chest. With alcohol burning you throat like bile, the memories of the person you're lost without become hazy and distant. Flashes of the war are lost as your vision blurs and your legs wobble. Sometimes you'll wake up in your bed with a comforting note from your friend on your bedside table, other times you'll awake the night after with rings of coal around your eyes and your hand grasping for the space where someone once lay.

Moments like those are full of vulgarity and crude words, and the veracity behind such words is lost in the idealisation that prompted the actions in the first place. After hours of deprecation, pressure and frustration students lose their heads to feel young again. Their futures are in their hands; decisions too vast to fathom are better lost in a bottle of vodka. How can you possibly plan for a future that you weren't even sure you had?

Honesty has been forgotten within grimy halls, innocence lost after humiliation and belittlement. Schools aren't communities. They don't exist to support education and to help you live a successful life. They're places of insincerity and deception. After the pressure of regurgitating facts about werewolves and other dark creatures, some regurgitate their lunch. Begging not to lose a friend, begging their teacher to just leave the homework for one night because you _just can't take it_.

Those of the students who went back to school just walk around like zombies. The numbness consumes them. Turn a corner and there's the portrait they saw a thirteen year old die under. They blink, but their blood stains their sight.

The war wrecked them. Their spirit, determination, passion. The slaughtering of children does that to a person.

Some run until their limbs ache, others read until their eyes burn. They all have ways to cope with loss. So maybe that's why they turn to things that will harm them, they're just looking for a way to cope. And maybe not 'things', per se. But people. Someone toxic, enticing, and oh, so wrong for them. Because they're feeling it too. Bewilderment, loss.

Nothing.

When they're drunk on nostalgia, tipsy on the memories of those who are no longer with them, they look for that person in someone else. But they can't find them, and they're not the person they're looking for either.

So they pull them a bit closer, kiss them a bit harder. Anything just to _feel_ something. A flutter in their stomach will encourage them to carry on, push harder. Fumble, stumble. A spine hitting a wall, fingertips searching. Searching to find the one they lost in the person in front of them.

Maybe that's why she went to him.

Maybe that's why he kept coming back.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione knocked her knuckles against the Headmistress's door three times.

_Rap. Rap. Rap._

She took two steps back, her patent pumps pattering against the cold stone floor. The echo of her footsteps interrupted the silence that consumed the empty hallway, but her mind was alive with the buzz of her thoughts.

Her fingers quivered as she brushed her hair out of her face. The nest was unbearably big. As she yanked it back into a bun at the nape of her damp neck, she thought. Did she fit here anymore? Was she meant to roam these halls, frizzy head bobbing beside every other student? Obviously she would be unable to disappear into the crowd, she'd inevitably be spotted thirty six times a day by the naïve first years who'd gaze up at her like some sort of God. But was she too old for this? Too old for gossip that left a bad taste in your mouth, patronising teachers and students who belittle you to big themselves up?

What would it be like? The vacant desks in the classrooms, the missing teachers. Students she'd detested deserved to be there. How many times she'd wished to see Lavender Brown's perky face amongst the crowd at the station couldn't be counted. She was one of many that shouldn't have died. They were _children_, for God's sake.

She hadn't even been sure that Hogwarts would reopen, let alone after such a short period of time. She didn't feel ready. None of them did. Maybe if they'd reopened a little later she would have Harry and Ron by her side; she could really use the support. Thoughts like these had been flitting through her mind since she'd come down from the exhilaration of getting the Head Girl badge in her Hogwarts letter that summer.

McGonagall's tired but welcoming face met hers as the large, strong door to her office swung open.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Glad to see you're on time," the headmistress smiled softly at the young woman. Hermione nodded, quirking her lips slightly at her. Hermione took a seat beside Neville, who quickly squeezed her slender hand as she passed him.

"Now I'm sure you're both wondering why I called you to my office. Hogwarts went through several refurbishments before the term began, but there is still more to be done. Areas such as the astronomy tower and the library are still off limits to students. The two of you, as head boy and girl, will be in charge of organising groups of seventh year students to rebuild the last parts of the school. I expect this time to be used efficiently. No magic should be used, to give you and your peers the chance to work together. I expect you to organise this between the two of you in your own time. The first session will be this coming Monday, after dinner." McGonagall paused and glanced at the two Gryffindor's seated in front of her.

Longbottom had a faint shadow of stubble gracing his jaw, and the lines around his smiling mouth were more prominent than before. His eyes seemed larger, older somehow. They were slightly creased, but wide and curious. Like he'd seen a lot and now wanted to keep on learning. His efforts during the war had surely marked his face. The seventh year certainly seemed out of place in his white oxford shirt and school tie.

Hermione, however, looked different. Her shoulders were hunched and her arms were tightly pressed into her body. Her legs swung underneath her chair, a wave of nervous energy urging at least one part of her to constantly _move_. She looked as if she would sprint from her chair at any moment, her knuckles white with the strength that simply kept her seated. A layer of sweat shone across her forehead and her hair was escaping from its confinements of its hairband. Violet shadows of fatigue hung under her eyes and her mouth tilted to the floor in a permanent grimace.

McGonagall noted the appearances of the head boy and girl, Hermione in particular, but did not voice any concerns that she may have had. She decided that it may be a difficult transition to go from fighting to _live_, to a menial life of class, sleep, class, sleep.

"You may go."

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><p>Hermione had been elated to receive the Head Girl badge in the post. The tiny, golden pin had fallen into her lap as if it were claiming her. Her hands had abandoned the letter immediately and she brought the badge to her eyes for further inspection. This minute object represented her unwavering diligence, her efforts to be accepted as a real witch. Years of hand cramps from too much writing, falling asleep atop her bed with books spread around her. This badge also represented the time she spent putting the information stored in her head into action, but she'd rather not allow her mind to wander there.<p>

She'd flown into Ron's room, who was still in the land of slumber mid-afternoon, and pulled open his curtains. Ron had squealed and yanked the covers over himself to protect his modesty, before laughing as they'd hugged. It had almost felt normal. As if they hadn't just been fighting against an evil wizard, hadn't lost loved ones, and were all about to return to Hogwarts for their last year together. That wasn't true, though. Hermione would be stepping aboard the train without her two closest friends. They'd be busy training to be members of an elite unit of specialist officers within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic, to apprehend and detain Dark wizards and witches.

Going back to study for NEWTs paled in comparison. She had shaken her head and placed her arms around Harry's neck as he congratulated her. His grin was mirrored with her own, butterflies danced in her stomach.

These butterflies of anticipation had melted away to the thick wave of nausea that overwhelmed her now. Sitting in front of the small group of seventh years, her mouth felt heavy with saw dust. The expectant gazes from her peers did nothing to ease her discomfort. What was wrong with her? She was a leader, born to take control. She nodded at Neville to lead the session. Frowning, but not questioning, he stood to explain why they had all been called here.

"So Hannah, Parvarti, Blaise, Anthony and I will start with the Astronomy Tower. The rest will be in the library…" Hermione quickly surveyed the students in front of her. Three Slytherin faces stared back at her. She hadn't expected that. She certainly hadn't expected Malfoy to come back.

When he'd bumped into her on the station as everyone clambered onto the train, she was sure her eyes had bugged out of her head. She'd halted, causing the eager students around her to holler at her to keep on moving. He had quickly looked to the ground after they'd caught eyes, evidently desperate to just get onto the train and find a quiet compartment away from the abuse being bellowed at him. She had followed his lead and climbed onto the train, and made her way to the Prefects Compartment, dazed with shock.

"Okay, you can go." Hermione blinked and realised she hadn't been playing any attention to what Neville had been saying. As the group of students shuffled out Neville sat beside her.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he placed his hand on her shoulder awkwardly, unsure whether or not she wanted comforting.

"I just feel rather strange. It's weird being back at Hogwarts now. Harry and Ron are training, there are so few seventh year students." She paused and looked up at Neville. Taking in his eyes crinkled with concern and his pursed lips, she smiled. "I'll be okay, Neville. Thanks for asking though." Hermione patted his hand, then left, wanting to end that conversation as quickly as it had begun.

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><p>Hermione coughed, copious amounts of dust filling her lungs. Her now grubby hands were busy at work, picking up the poor books that had been hiding under layers of rubble and grime all this time. It hurt to see the library in this desolate state. Every book that had lost its cover or was missing pages pulled on her heart. She could just imagine the towering shelves crashing to the ground one by one. How many books had been destroyed, how many beautiful pieces of literature would they be unable to salvage? Her back cracked as she got up from all fours, and she rubbed her hands on her skirt.<p>

"Never thought I'd see the great Hermione Granger on her knees." That drawl could only belong to one person and there he was in all his skinny, blond splendour. Malfoy's eyes danced with mirth as he gave her a roguish smile, "Well, never like this anyway."

Hermione glared at the insufferable twat. His shirt was not stained, his trousers were not creased. The bastard hadn't done an ounce of work.

"I see you've been continuing the Malfoy traditions, leaving all the dirty work to everyone else and still expecting the credit," she bumped his shoulder childishly as she put the books in her hand on top of the pile with the others. "Why did you even come back here, Ferret? Surely you'd realise that you're hardly welcome." She knew that he could easily retaliate, say something about leaving the dirty work to those with dirty blood, or another cheap shot not too dissimilar. He knew it too. A challenge. He held her gaze for several seconds, before reaching for the pile of books. After pausing for one moment longer, he walked away, but not before Hermione had noticed his clenched hands and tense jaw.

"He's trying, you know." Hermione looked up to see Pansy Parkinson standing in front of her, sleek black bob and pristine shoes and all. "You might not be able to tell, but he is. He's detested, he's the public enemy. People will revel in any mistake he makes, they're itching for him to spit out a slur against your background, damning you for your dirty blood." Hermione flinched. "It's going to take time to rewire his brain, to unlearn the beliefs he was taught before he could talk. But he knows deep down that what he grew up believing is wrong. Please, he's _trying. _We all are."

Hermione understood what this was. She was sorry. Hermione looked around, the faces of the pupils around her with their tired eyes and frowning mouths, and decided that even if Pansy was too proud to actually say 'I'm sorry', any goodness would help them all now.

"Thank you." Pansy's perfectly painted lips fell apart in astonishment. She had expected a shaking of hands, maybe a solemn nod. But the daft girl was actually _thanking_ her. Pansy laughed, not unkindly. "Sure thing, Granger." Hermione nodded and gave her a quick smile, before walking past her with books clutched to her chest. Looking back at Pansy's face, seeing her let out a breath of relief, she smiled. Maybe this year wouldn't be as bad as she thought.


	3. Chapter 3

If Malfoy was going to moan one more time, Hermione would show him just how much stronger she'd become since third year. Yes, heaving large, broken bookcases from underneath the rubble was hard work. Yes, they'd just finished a long day of school and they all just wanted to go to bed. And yes, the derelict library was freezing in late-autumn and everyone was quivering in their robes. However, no else felt the need to voice their discomfort every minute like Draco fucking Malfoy.

The majority of the bookcases had been pushed against the walls of the library. Hermione had speedily explained as soon as they had all arrived that today's task would be to clear the floor of all debris, and that they would all take a section of the room each and get to work. Hermione wanted to get out of there quickly, so the plan was to be as efficient as possible. She was at the back of the library, where Malfoy had started helping her with her section after clearing his own surprisingly quickly. His busy hands didn't stop him from whining though.

"I swear to God, if you do not be quiet I'll murder you," Hermione snapped.

"That wasn't a nice thing to say," Malfoy held a hand to his heart, wounded. He then proceeded to roll his eyes and scoff. "Surprisingly enough, I'd rather stop rolling around in this dirt and head to my nice, clean bed. And it's fucking freezing in here."

"And some of us have just finished Quidditch practise, so we're a little sore," Dean piped up, grimacing as he rolled his shoulders. Hermione would customarily bark at them for being so far behind the other group, last year she would have made them work until they were practically dropping to the floor in exhaustion. However, she looked at each of their faces and took in their tired eyes and eyebrows that creased from aching heads. Hermione's own limbs felt like lead and her head was throbbing, even though she hadn't set foot near a broom and they had all been speaking in hushed voices. She exhaled slowly.

"Fine. We can pick this up next week." Padma shared a look with Dean, but no one was complaining. They all dropped what they were holding at their feet and scurried out of the door. Hermione brought her hands to her face to rub away fatigue. Her brows furrowing, she carefully stepped her way over the remaining ruins to the door.

"You have a little something there," Malfoy was by her side pointing to her cheek. Hermione looked up at him and blinked. She was so exhausted that she hadn't even heard him walking beside her. "It's not hard to understand, Granger. Dirt. On your cheek." She rolled her eyes and batted away the hand pointing to the grime.

"I don't care about the dirt, Malfoy. I'll wash it off later. Scamper off to the dungeons, why don't you."

"Your wish is my command, princess," and with a sneer, he was gone.

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><p>"I can't believe he proposed!" Parvati gushed at dinner that night, staring enviously at the shining rock at the end of Ginny's finger. The redhead grinned coyly.<p>

"Neither can I." Hermione wrapped her arms around Ginny's neck.

"I'm so happy for you, Gin." The girls shared smiles, although Hermione was slightly apprehensive. As much as a wedding could bring some cheer to Hogwarts, as it so desperately needed, getting engaged at such a young age could quite possibly lead to disaster. She felt as though Harry had been so close to death that he wanted to be secure, having a wife and a family could provide him with the safeness he'd lacked for so long.

And he was scared. She knew it, they'd all felt it. Her and Ron's kiss during the battle was spurred by fear, the rattling panic in your ribs from the realisation that you almost died. They'd leapt at each other and had grasped at skin and clothes and hair to just hold onto one another. The intense desperation to not lose someone you love and to be safe in some comforting arms had been extremely appealing. But they'd both known that was why it had happened. Neither of them wanted to have a relationship, they knew they were better off as friends. Ron had been sceptical about the kiss as well, and after admitting, "It was a bloody good kiss, 'Mione," that was that.

Harry didn't want to lose the girl he loved, that was it. Or believed he loved. Can you be in love with someone at such a young age? Surely it's infatuation, lust. You love them, but are you _in_ love? Most teenagers will run when things get hard. Adults could stay together for years without an ounce of happiness with the person sitting across from them at the dinner table, but they stick together because they want to work things out. Hermione doubted that Harry and Ginny would be able to do the same thing. But Harry needed a family and he had that with her.

The news of two teenagers, teenagers who hadn't even been in a relationship for that long a time, would easily make some people concerned. Hermione wasn't about to voice her opinion, of course. Some things were better left unsaid. Hermione found it difficult to listen to Ginny chime about the proposal and her and Harry's future. She didn't want to watch her friend throw her life away for a boy she may not even truly love. She begged desperately that it worked out.

Padma noticed Hermione gazing glassy-eyed at her empty plate and smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry, Hermione. You'll find someone soon," she chimed, rubbing her arm softly.

"Thanks, Padma," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

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><p><em>Hermione was spinning. The room was bleached in a white glow and she couldn't make sense of her own hand, let alone the owner of the manic cackling that reverberated in her head. She stumbled as the images flashed and altered in an oneiric fashion, bursts of the hellish realm burning her eyes, ingrained in her skull. Flickers of fingernails scraping the wooden floor and ankles kicking at the spindly fingers that hold them in their tight grasp. She turned to see a demon with mad hair and wild eyes standing in front of her with welcoming arms and a sickening smile. Her hand stretched out and she interlaced her discoloured fingers into Hermione's ever-growing mane. She twisted a large chunk of it around a digit, and pulled it out agonisingly slowly by the roots.<em>

_Hermione blinked again and then she was on her back with Bellatrix looming over her. Hermione's hollowed eyes fell on her decaying flesh. Her skin was open, leaving her bones exposed. Her salted tears fell and burnt like acid into the bite marks of her skin. She strained to use the last of her vigour to kick the demon off of her, but her legs lay limp and unmoving. Hermione was screaming now, screeching at herself to just move, at her hands to whack the witch off of her. Her body betrayed her and all she could do was lie and endure the vision of her macabre fate. Bellatrix coldly sliced through her body, crimson staining the lavish rug she's been forced to lie upon._

And then she was awake and her legs were convoluted in an array of sheets. Her body was hanging off her the bed, and locks of her hair lay limp on her pillow. Her fingers wrapped around the dark tresses she'd seemingly pulled out in her sleep and she choked on a sob. She'd officially gone mental. She got up from her bed and ripped her sticky pyjama top from her body and her fingers tried to soother her aching head. She gagged, her stomach churning and she sprinted out of her room to the bathroom. Her cries got caught in her throat but her vomit expelled from her as soon as her head hit the toilet bowl. She retched until her throat burned, the image of Bellatrix's beaming face haunting her. A light knock on the bathroom door made Hermione's head shoot up and Neville's voice greeted her through the door.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" he asked and Hermione could practically hear his concerned frown in his voice. She stood shakily to her feet, pulled her dressing gown off of a hook and yanked open the door.

"I think I've got a bug. Better stay away from me," she laughed weakly. He smiled back half-heartedly.

"Okay. Well, just shout if you need me." She nodded and bid him goodnight. Feeling sorry for herself, she trudged back to her room and pulled her quilt around her. She sunk further into her bed until she was in complete darkness, waiting for sleep to come.

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><p>"Your friend Weasley is insane," Pansy announced as she sat herself across from Hermione that afternoon, her dark hair bouncing. They were in the head's common room, which had quickly become the temporary library for the seventh year students. Hermione had been spending the day to herself, reeling from her nightmare but she welcomed the interruption. She looked up, but said nothing. "Married at seventeen. Is she barmy?" Pansy continued, flicking through the book she'd brought with her.<p>

"Well, I'm sure they'll be engaged for a while," Hermione shrugged. Pansy shook her head, and then proceeded to dig around in her bag. Papers and stationary gradually filled up the desk, and as she blew her fringe out of her eyes Hermione spoke.

"Was there something you needed?" Pansy stopped and smiled sheepishly.

"I know I'm the last person who should be asking you for favours, but there are very few people in the year now and I didn't know who else to turn to. Draco's been sulking in his room for Merlin knows how long and he won't even speak to me, so, and it damages my pride to do so, I came to you. I'm stuck on the transfiguration homework."

"Well, luckily for you I just completed it. Here, use it to do yours," she slid her paper to the other side of the table.

"Thanks, Granger," Pansy muttered as they both lowered their heads and got to work.

An hour later, the seventh year students had emptied out of their dorm and dinner was soon to be served. The girls packed up their stuff and wandered over to the great hall, neither of them changing their pace to walk ahead of the other. Although Hermione wasn't about to be best friends with the cunning girl, it was better to be civil. And in all honesty she'd been feeling a little lonely, so one more person to talk to would do her good. Ginny was infatuated with Harry and the Patil twins were still mourning Lavender's death that they barely acknowledged anyone else, only piping up at particularly juicy gossip. Neville was the only one who paid her any mind, so being on speaking terms with Pansy wasn't exactly going to do her any harm. She hoped, anyway.

Hermione had to admire the courage of the girl. A traditional pureblood who was once filled up to her pug-like nose with immoral nonsense and utter detest for Hermione had sought her out to apologise (a slightly half-arsed apology she had to admit, but an apology nonetheless) and asked for help. This was something that even Hermione had too much pride for, so her respect for Pansy had grown tremendously. It was quite Gryffindor of her.

As they approached the looming doors of the Great Hall, Malfoy practically ran into them.

"Well, isn't this cosy," he mocked. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Maybe if you actually made an effort to be more pleasant to people, you'd stop sulking alone in your room every day," she shot back.

"I'd rather be alone than around people pretending to tolerate me. You actually think Granger likes you after everything that's happened? She's painting a smile and shaking your hand to make this year more comfortable for herself. At least I'm not falling for it."

"Maybe we're all just tired of the smirking and sneering and spitting at each other. Being hateful is tiring, and I'd rather accept Parkinson's apology and move on. I'm sick of hating the Slytherin's, Malfoy. We're all a bit old for that now," Granger made to walk through the doors, but Malfoy blocked her path.

"This isn't about school houses, Granger. Her family wanted your blood painted on their walls and your head on a stick on the gate in front of their house," he grabbed her wrist and shoved her cardigan up her arm. "This scar is all you'll ever be to her, Granger. Nothing more. She'll laugh with you in between classes, but as soon as you turn around, her foul words will hit you in the back and you'll have no idea." He spat every word at her, puncturing her with every syllable. She mimicked his expression before pulling her sleeve back down and stalking away. Pansy hit Draco on the arm, her eyes sparkling with rage.

"What did you do that for, Draco? News flash, we lost. Our families were wrong and now they are paying the price. But we are young, we have a chance to apologise and move on. I'd rather be remembered as a girl who was on the wrong side of the war instead of someone who will die bitter and alone because I couldn't forget about my pride for one measly second and admit I was wrong. Take my advice, Draco. You'll be a lot happier accepting that Granger is a smart and strong young woman, and not what your father taught you she is. And when you realise that, she will forgive you." He was stunned and silent. "I'll see you later," Pansy left him, without even caring to look back.

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><p>"Hermione! I almost thought you weren't coming to dinner," Ginny said, smiling. She was practically glowing, with rosy cheeks and shining eyes.<p>

"Of course not, I was just working for a little longer than I expected."

"What a surprise," Neville chuckled. "You feeling better then?"

"Yes, much." Hermione turned to Ginny. "When are you next seeing Harry?"

"Not this weekend, it's the first quidditch match and he's busy with auror stuff, I think. Soon, though," her face hadn't faltered all day and she was still beaming now.

"It's been ages since I last saw him. I still need to congratulate him." Just as Hermione was going to dig into her food, bellows from outside the hall interrupted her. She exchanged looks with Neville.

"Don't worry, I'll see what that is." She quickly jogged out of the hall, to see four third year Gryffindor's huddled round a first year Slytherin. The tiny blonde boy was hunched up against the cold, stone wall with his little fists balled up by his sides. The poor thing was trying, but he wasn't a match for a group of boys two years older. They were bent over, sniggering at his feeble attempts and his face was bloody and marred from their unforgiving fists. It was a sight Hermione seen many times before; a group of people attacking someone weaker and smaller than them. It was a scene she'd even experienced herself, being on the receiving end of the laughter. The anger that coursed through her veins urged her forward, she ran towards them with her wand in her grasp.

"What's going on here?" The Gryffindor boys looked up, eyes widening as the head girl, Harry Potter's best friend, looked at them with utter repulsion. She helped the sandy haired first year to his feet and put her hand on his shoulder as a protective shield.

"I think it'd be best if you three took yourselves to McGonagall's office. And I will know if you never get there." The boys scurried away, tripping over their feet as Hermione glared at them. She turned to the shaking boy. "Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital wing?" He shook his head urgently and then took off at the speed of light, leaving Hermione with her head reeling. She'd never known Gryffindor's to act this way. They usually prided themselves on being open and accepting of others. Of course squabbles between students happened at times, but rarely would a group specifically target another pupil for, what Hermione assumed, something blood-related. She hoped it was just because they hadn't been back at Hogwarts for very long and tensions were high between the houses. Soon it would go back to normal. It had to.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- just a quick note that these next few chapters will be the last of the fast updates, I just wanted to get the ball rolling and I haven't really been that busy as it's the Christmas holiday. Updates should be pretty regular, though I don't want to promise a schedule as I'm afraid that I won't stick to it.

Thank you 'previouslyjade' for your kind words! I hope the rest of the story doesn't disappoint :)

Thanks for reading!

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><p>"And Gryffindor has possession! Weasley has the quaffle- passes to Thomas- oooh, so close to brushing Malfoy's nose! Utter shame it didn't hit him in the face- and the snitch has been spotted!" the commentary of the quidditch match, along with the vibrations of the stomps and cheers of the Hogwarts students, shook the stands. Neville was standing beside Hermione, his freezing hands wrapped tightly around the wooden barrier. First years were standing on benches with eyes the size of golfballs to take in every swoop of a broom and swish of a quidditch uniform. Red and yellow engulfed Hermione; scarves, banners, jumpers were marking their territory in the stands.<p>

"Looks like Malfoy has lost the snitch!"

Silver and green jeered opposite them. Every Gryffindor point triggered deafening boos from the Slytherins, screaming and clapping hands echoed in Hermione's ears. She spotted Pansy clutching her hands to her chest, muttering under her breath. It was obvious that she was nervous for Malfoy's safety, even his own teammates weren't exactly welcoming him. The Gryffindor's seemed rather determined to play fairly though, so he was safe. His broom swooped and his veined hands tightened around the shaft of the broom. Dipping his head to make himself more streamlined, he urged himself forward.

"Come on, Gryffindor!" Neville bellowed with all his strength, bringing Hermione's attention back to the game. "Come on Hermione! Get on your feet! Can't let the Slytherins see the head girl being unsupportive of her team."

"I'm not being unsupportive," she grumbled. "I'm just cold. And I told you I'm the last person to enjoy the game with."

"Maybe if you_ tried_ to enjoy yourself, you may start to feel the house spirit," Neville smiled sweetly. Hermione rolled her eyes, but got to her feet.

"Happy?" sarcasm lay like honey in her tone, but Neville simply grinned at her. A wave of voices accompanied the points Ginny won for the team and the redhead grinned, throwing a gloved fist into the air.

"There's no chance the Slytherin's will win now, we're bound to get the snitch. Their team is too weak, no group dynamics," Neville was mumbling under his breath, and Hermione 'hm'ed in reply.

The quaffle was being passed from player to player, the students whizzing around so quickly that Hermione could just see a blur of red and green. Although she found the game to be tedious, she admired their endurance. She watched them dodge and dive and steer and glide across the air. A blonde head caught Hermione's eye and she glanced in Malfoy's direction. His eyes seemed to be following something. With one last breath to prepare himself, he was off.

"And the snitch has been sighted again!" Malfoy weaved his way in between the other players, his speed increasing as he reached his hand out. Just as his fingertips brushed the golden ball, he collided side-on with Demelza Robins. Malfoy tipped abruptly off his broom, surging forward with one hand on it and the other desperately clutching onto the snitch. Hermione stood on her toes, eyes wide as the arena descended into near silence. It was clear that his grip was lessening and the Hogwarts students watched his every move with anticipation as he tried desperately to ensure that he didn't tumble his way into the hospital wing. With strength that Hermione gathered was from many years of flying, he heaved himself awkwardly back on top of his broom. He tipped his head forward and let his hair shield his eyes, clearly embarrassed that he almost fell in front of the majority of the school. Just as the commentator was about to announce that they continue playing, Draco lifted his hand up and revealed the golden snitch in his hand.

The taunts that followed stunned Hermione; the Gryffindor boos were deafening.

"Get back to Azkaban, you dirty cheat!"

"Slytherin scum!" Hermione and Neville exchanged glances, unsure of what to do. Never had a quidditch match ended in such abuse. Hermione watched as Malfoy slowly descended and jumped off his broom with his head down, the rest of the team in tow. For a group of players who had just won the first quidditch match of the season, you'd expect them to be elated. But with that reception, no wonder they all looked so dejected.

The head boy and girl did their best to quieten the enraged Gryffindors, but to no avail. The students surrounding them bellowed, with spit flying and flaming cheeks. Hermione pictured Malfoy's hunched back on his broom, and grimaced. She jumped onto the bench behind her and whispered an incantation so her voice would be projected across the arena.

"Look at you all! What a disgrace." Her resonating voice silenced the students present. Now having their attention, she continued. "Quidditch is meant to be a game for fun, friendly competition. Was it necessary for you all to be so nasty? I thought my house was a lot better than that. Take a minute to think about what you all just did- are you any better than the people who have been tormenting you for years?" Hermione shook her head, disgusted. She jumped off the bench and stormed through the crowds, wanting to get as far away from the arena as possible.

* * *

><p>Usually after a quidditch match, there would be a party held in the common room of the winning house. It was a party that was strictly against the rules, yet also tremendously obvious to each and every teacher. Other houses weren't exactly at the top of the list of invitations for the Slytherin's parties, but a few Ravenclaws would typically be invited and the next day, the school would be consumed with whispers of who had gotten with who, and which Ravenclaws had been sick on the way back to their dorms.<p>

That morning, however, the great hall was quiet and sparking with tension. The Slytherin table was practically silent and Hermione spotted Malfoy shovelling food into his mouth at record speed. She assumed the house unity would have increased after returning from the war, but now Slytherin's we're being attacked day and night.

And maybe it was okay. Maybe it was just revenge for the abuse muggle-borns had received. But Hermione wanted to live in a non-hateful environment, and currently Hogwarts wasn't comfortable for anyone. She waved goodbye to Ginny as she grabbed her bag and headed to the head dorm. She needed a break from the other students, and a familiar book was exactly what she craved.

Not long after Hermione had gotten comfortable, a soft cough caught her attention. She looked up to see Pansy, clutching a reluctant Malfoy's sleeve, obviously trying to get him to stay in place. His shockingly thin frame loomed over her and Hermione couldn't help but notice the purple moons stamped under each grey eye.

"We came here to apologise," Pansy announced. Hermione wondered if this way of greeting people was a habit of hers.

"No, _you_ did. I came here to get a book for my homework," Malfoy tugged his arm back. He frowned, "You've creased my sleeve." Pansy rolled her eyes.

"I'll pay for a new shirt."

"You better," he mumbled, pulling on the expensive material.

"As I was saying, what you did yesterday was great. It hasn't been easy coming back to Hogwarts, and to get support from you is unbelievable, really. And Malfoy agrees, he's just too proud to admit it." Hermione looked at Malfoy and as soon as she caught his eyes, he looked away. He shuffled his feet and sighed as he fiddled with the spine of the book in his hands.

"I guess it was okay of you to do that. But just because you stuck up for my team, doesn't mean I like you all of a sudden." Malfoy said, and then his face returned to a look of complete disinterest. Hermione welcomed the familiar expression and smiled.

"I don't think I'd have it any other way." Malfoy nodded at her reply. He shuffled for a second, and then walked away.

"Well, that went better than expected," Pansy smiled. "I was sure he'd rather ride a Hippogriff than be slightly decent towards you."

"I have to agree with you," Hermione smiled. "I'm sorry that you're being treated so poorly." Pansy shrugged off her comment.

"I haven't exactly been an angel over the years."

"But this treatment is exactly what I've been fighting against since I got into the wizarding world. I know people could argue that there's no harm done because a few hurtful words doesn't compare to years of abuse, but school should be a place of acceptance and safety. For everyone. I thought people would be a bit more positive than they are."

"You expected school to be more positive? Granger, you're surrounded by people who do not give a shit about anyone's little feelings. No matter who you are, a prejudiced pureblood with more money than sense or an innocent muggle-born, you're going to get hurt. Now that the tables have turned, I can't expect people to be so forgiving of what my friends and family have done. I can handle a few snarky comments here and there. I don't even care, I'm just focusing on learning and bettering myself."

"What about the people who aren't as strong as you? What about the first years being attacked on the way to class because they're related to a prejudiced family? Seeing these students being hurt like this is breaking my heart. I've almost given up in my faith in good people." Pansy shrugged.

"I don't know what to tell you. It's going to take a miracle to unite the houses," she looked as Hermione's face. "You're going to try aren't you?"

"I have to," she said, her jaw set with determination. Pansy laughed and shook her head.

"Good luck with that, Granger," she raised her eyebrows. "So, you seeing Weasley this Christmas?" Hermione paused.

"Which one?"

"Well, the whole clan I guess," Pansy smirked. "But I meant _Ronald_." Hermione looked at her blank-faced.

"Why the tone?" She queried.

"Oh, come on. Everyone knows you had a quick snog during the battle."

"The first time you've mentioned the battle and you're talking about a kiss." Hermione shook her head incredulously.

"Well it's better than talking about anything else. So, will there be a repeat? Have a quick peck under the mistletoe?" She grinned.

"I will not be kissing Ron," Hermione sternly.

"Oh Granger, how sad your love life is," Pansy flicked her sleek bob.

"Erm, excuse me. I can't exactly see a line of boys who want to go out with you either."

"I believe that is the first time we've agreed with each other, Granger." Hermione turned to find Malfoy behind her. She nodded wordlessly, before turning back to her work.

"Why did you come back?" Pansy asked, her brow creased.

"I need to speak with you," he tilted his head away from Hermione, suggesting that the two leave the table. Pansy followed him, and they spoke in soft whispers too quiet to reach Hermione's ears. Pansy was shaking her head desperately, but Malfoy wouldn't take no for an answer. His nostrils flared and his fingers itched. Long, thin digits weaved through platinum hair and his eyes were erratic. He sneered at the petite girl who was trying to reach out to her friend, before pushing past her and storming away, looking a lot like a temperamental toddler.

"Malfoy!" Pansy hissed at his receding back. She muttered a quick apology to Hermione, hastily grabbed her things and ran after him, like a little puppy that she was often told she resembled.

Hermione wondered what that was about, and she tried with all her power to keep her thoughts away from dark magic and revolting death eaters. She begged it was an issue within himself and that no more fighting would carry on. She didn't know how much more she could take of the negativity that wrapped its slimy hands around her neck, its fingers gradually tightening and tightening. The war was over, but the damage had been done. Students went to bed crying and awoke in a state of fear, with sweat-drenched clothes sticking to their backs. Panic attacks had become a normality, and Hermione had either found herself in an alcove with a tight throat and shooting pains in her chest, or stepping over the convulsing student that was blocking the hall.

No, nothing more could happen. It wasn't fair, it wasn't. She would get it out of Malfoy and then she needed a break. She needed Harry and Ron. She needed Mrs. Weasley and her parents. She needed to get out of there.

* * *

><p>Hermione put yet another group of tattered books on top of the every growing pile before clapping her hands together to rid of the dust. Pansy was busy on the opposite side of the room, lazily sweeping the floor with a grimace on her face. Malfoy was slouched in a corner, face tilted with eyes that were heavy with lethargy. 'Perfect', she thought. 'It'll be easier talking to him whilst he's barely conscious'. She strode over to him, trying to keep her nerve as best she could as she hissed at him.<p>

"I don't know what you were talking about with Parkinson earlier, but if you give me even an iota of doubt that you are totally reformed I will be reporting you to McGonagall and she'll investigate the use of dark magic in this castle." Malfoy blinked slowly, once, twice. His eyes caught hers and the creases around his eyes deepened.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Granger?" he leant his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes again, evidently done with the inane conversation.

"You were whispering with Parkinson in the library earlier."

"We weren't talking about revolting against the school, Granger. The library is the last place we'd hold our meetings," he smirked as he saw the annoyance flash in her eyes. "Relax. It was nothing like that."

"Then what were you talking about?" He opened both of his eyes wider now.

"That's none of your concern," he said, jaw set.

"Well then, I might just discuss this with McGonagall after this session."

"Why don't you ask your new best friend," he sneered and held her gaze. She scoffed, and then shoved a broom into his hands.

"Don't think you can just sit around whilst we do the dirty work, Malfoy. We're not the help." Malfoy didn't say a word as she stalked away, he merely glowered heatedly at her receding back.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N- this may not be the happy Christmas chapter you may be hoping for, so I apologise in advance.

Aside from that, I hope you all had a merry Christmas! (If you celebrate it, of course)

Enjoy :)

* * *

><p>"Merry Christmas, merry Christmas! Ring the Hogwarts bell! Merry Christmas, merry Christmas! Cast a Christmas spell!" a suit of armour sang at Hermione as she made her way to the Great Hall. She grinned, she was a big lover of Christmas and even a suit of armour that was bellowing at her to its own tune didn't dampen her spirits. She almost wanted to join in, but she knew she'd get some awful looks from the other pupils.<p>

It was the evening before everyone left to travel home for the holidays, and Hogwarts actually almost felt like it had before the war. The weekend prior had ended on a higher note after a much friendlier quidditch match between the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs. As Hermione made her way to the great hall for dinner, she felt a small buzz of excitement for the Christmas ahead of her. Oh, how lovely it would be to see the Weasley's again.

Hermione sat beside Ginny, quickly tucking into the huge feast spread out in front of her. Maybe it was the towering Christmas trees and mistletoe decorating the hall, maybe it was the seasonal snow falling from the Enchanted Ceiling. Or maybe it was simply the prospect of getting out of the hell hole for a couple of weeks. Whatever it was, Hermione was glad that the tensions between the school houses had lessened, even if it was going to pick up again the day they returned in the New Year.

"I can't wait to see everyone. I feel like it's been a decade since I saw Harry and Ron," Hermione said as Neville offered her an end of a Christmas cracker to pull across the table. Hermione won the tug of war and was greeted with a cloud of glitter and a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Puking Pastel fell into her lap. She picked it up and wrinkled her nose, images of fifth year as a prefect flashing through her mind.

"I know." Ginny said softly, her wide grin faltering. "It's not going to be the same without Fred though." Hermione sighed, placing the sweet onto the table. She missed Fred dearly, and she wasn't even family. She couldn't imagine how Ginny was feeling, especially as they had such a dear relationship. Hermione squeezed the red head's arm.

"It is going to be difficult. It's okay to be sad, it's okay to miss him. But it's more important to remember him and think of all the good Christmases you spent together. How annoying it was to have your gift explode in your face, how he fell asleep on your arm after eating too much food. Try not to think about his death, but of him." Ginny nodded, but her breath was shaky.

"I just-"she paused to regain her voice. "George," she whispered.

"I know," Hermione rubbed her back. "I know." And there it was. The reminder that Christmas wasn't as magical as she previously believed. There was going to be an empty chair at the table this year, a permanent reminder of what had happened, a tattoo they didn't ask for. Hermione couldn't even go home for Christmas, her parents were still obliviously happy in Australia. She sighed again. Why had she expected anything more?

* * *

><p>"Granger," Pansy appeared beside her.<p>

"Parkinson." They weaved through the crowds as they made their way towards the bustling station.

"Excited for Christmas?"

"Who wouldn't be excited to share a bed with two other people and sit around an overcrowded table whilst we all pretend we're marvellously happy? Are you?"

"Pureblooded Christmases are rather formal occasions, so it isn't all that exciting," she shrugged. "Though the presents are good. What are muggle Christmases like?"

"A bit mental, if I'm honest. We tend to go a bit overboard with the decorations, the music and food and stuff. There's a lot of love as well, so I don't know how much you cold-blooded Slytherins would enjoy it." They paused as they neared the station and Pansy laughed. "Would you like to meet up during the holiday?" Hermione wasn't sure if their friendship stopped at the school gates or not and she almost cringed as she asked it.

"Malfoy is staying with my family for the holidays, so if I meet up with you he'll have to tag along as well. I don't think that'd be the best idea," she smiled sheepishly. Hermione nodded, definitely not wanting the stupid ferret to spoil her Christmas further. Speaking of the platinum-haired pain, Malfoy appeared by Pansy's side. A sneer marred his face, and he grimaced at the pupils singing Christmas carols as they disappeared into the train.

"Not in the Christmas spirit then, Malfoy?" Hermione inquired. He shivered with disgust.

"It's sickening." Hermione rolled her eyes, and muttered 'Scrooge' under her breath.

"I'll see you later then," she smiled at Pansy as they separated ways. She met up with Ginny, and they headed to the compartment where Neville and the Patils were waiting for them. She was eager for the journey to the Burrow.

* * *

><p>"George, I'm sorry dear, but Ron and Harry are arriving later tonight, so Bill will be in with you. That leaves Harry and Ron in the attic, and Fleur and Hermione in Ginny's room. So that should mean everyone has a bed!" Mrs. Weasley was running around like a lunatic, making sure everyone was comfortable that night. Her husband simply watched as she busied around the burrow, knowing from past Christmases not to get in her way. Hermione and Ginny were huddled together under a tattered blanket, steaming beverages held tightly in their grasp. It was a cold and grey Christmas Eve, and yet there wasn't a single snowflake to make up for the freezing temperatures. Although white Christmases weren't common in the UK, Hermione had always imagined what it would be like to see icing sugar dust the ground on that particular day. Even as a witch, she couldn't picture a scene more magical than that.<p>

Harry and Ron had yet to return home. It had been a while since they'd all been together, and Hermione had yearned to speak to them, especially in the last few weeks of term. Hogwarts hadn't felt like home from the very beginning of September, but it had been awful right before the last weekend of term. It wasn't the same without Ron copying her homework and Harry snarking at the teachers. Everyone who had once been there and now wasn't, whether from dying or simply choosing not to return, left a gaping hole. Hermione was so acutely aware of their absence, it pained her. However much she loved Ginny, she missed her best friends.

She also hadn't been coping well. Returning to Hogwarts was surprisingly difficult. Never mind the worsening conflict between the houses or any other drama, it was all hard. Hermione wasn't one to remember dreams, but now her nightmares were etched into her brain in technicolour, haunting her at three in the afternoon when she was just beginning to relax. Always someone who was calm and secure, she was had began to feel hands tense around her neck regularly, tightening until she was doubled over searching desperately for air, air that seemed to be in such popular demand that there was never enough for her.

She wanted to know if they were going through the same thing, if they also lacked sleep and were always on edge. She wanted to know if they were as scared as she was.

As soon as Harry and Ron entered the Burrow, all hell broke loose. With an already loud house, the noise that the Weasley's made when the boys got home was practically inhuman. Everyone was crying and hugging and kissing, so happy to have these two young men back with them. As Ginny locked lips with her fiancé, Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron's neck and squeezed so tightly he thought he was going to burst.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. I haven't been gone that long!" Hermione simply smiled as she let him go. And then Harry was pulling her into her hug and she remembered why she loved these boys so very much.

"God, I wish you came back to Hogwarts with us," she said as he released her from his grasp.

"I think we were both so ready to move on, it wouldn't have felt right going back," Harry said.

"And you weren't going to get me to take the NEWTs!" Ron agreed. Hermione smiled.

"Still, it make things easier with you two there. Everyone hates each other; the Slytherin's are getting targeted a few times a week and it's just getting worse."

"You should've been there for the first quidditch match. The reaction to the Slytherin team winning the first game scared _me_ and I wasn't even the one they hated," Ginny piped in. Hermione reached to put her hot chocolate down and nodded.

"It was awful."

"Well, can't say I feel too sorry for them," Ron shrugged. He and Ginny turned to talk to George and that was it for that conversation.

"How's auror training?" Hermione said eagerly, making room for Harry on the sofa. He ran his fingers through his unruly hair and grinned.

"Intense, but fantastic. It's not all that different from the DA. Hermione, you'd really love it," Harry looked at her with wide eyes. They'd had this conversation about fifty times over, but Hermione was firm about her decision. She wanted to help people of course, but her fighting days were over. She wanted to heal or support the rights of house elves, something that would benefit people, but didn't always get the attention it needed. The auror just wasn't for her.

"Harry, you know what I'm going to say," she shook her head.

"I know, I know. Can't blame me for trying," he grinned lopsidedly. "So, how's school?"

"You'll never guess who's by new best friend." He raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'Who?' and Hermione smiled slyly. "Parkinson." Harry's mouth fell open.

"Please tell me you're joking. Parkinson? Next you'll be telling me you're engaged to Malfoy," Hermione barked with laughter.

"Asides from forming a new friendship, it's actually-"

"-Harry, dear, come help me with these duvets. I need to prepare the beds for tonight." Mrs. Weasley cooed. Harry smiled apologetically, they both knew she was not a woman you should make a habit of saying no to. Hermione exhaled, but was sure she'd have an opportunity to speak to him later. She bid the Weasley's goodnight and headed to bed, eager for the sun to rise on a new day.

* * *

><p>"Merry Christmas, Hermione!" she was greeted by the Weasley's the next morning as the last to get downstairs. They were all huddled together, ogling at the pile of presents surrounding the tree.<p>

"What took you so long? We want to get started," Ginny laughed, eager to begin ripping open her presents. Hermione sat down cross-legged beside Ginny, and urged them to start exchanging gifts. The Weasley's began to pass them to one another, and soon they each had a small pile at their feet. Hermione opened them to find they all had a similar theme- they were all books. Clearly everyone had decided to go for the easy option, and she supposed she could never have too many.

Ginny's gasp brought Hermione's attention to the necklace she was holding between her dainty fingers. It was a thin, short chain that held a heart-shaped locket, a tiny diamond encrusted in its centre. The grin on her face said it all, and Hermione thought that Ginny might like the necklace more than the person who gave it to her. Harry brushed Ginny's hair to one side and secured it round her slender neck. Now, Ginny did love sentimental gifts and always appreciated the thought that went into them. But as the youngest Weasley, any jewellery she owned had once belonged to a Nan, an aunt, a distant cousin. And now she had a necklace that was _hers _and it was more than she ever expected.

"I know I still haven't gotten you a ring but I can't afford one just yet, and I couldn't let you go without a present on Christmas," Harry smiled sheepishly.

"Don't be silly, I love it," the redhead leaned over to kiss her fiancé. Hermione looked at them and then at her pile of books.

"I need to get myself a boyfriend."

Soon it was lunch and they all gathered round the ever-lengthening table, donned in rainbow coloured Weasley jumpers, made specially for each individual person (although they all seemed to be the same size). The Christmas dinner that Mrs. Weasley had prepared gave the house elves at Hogwarts a run for their money. Meat and potatoes prepared in five different ways; stuffing, pigs in blanket, mashed potato, pumpkin juice, butterbeer. Hermione was astounded every time she sat around their table at just how much food there was. As an only child, her Christmas dinners had been so much smaller than theirs.

"Before we dig in, I'd like to take a moment to address the empty chair at the table this year," Mrs. Weasley said with a tight voice. "So many brave lives were lost as we fought for freedom and Fred Weasley died a proud man amongst them. Let us please remember him laughing, and not his last few minutes. To Fred, to Remus and Tonks, to Dumbledore and to Lily and James. Their memories will never die. And of course, to Hermione's parents. Let them be found safe and sound," Hermione gave a weak smile. She raised her glass of butterbeer and practically finished it in one swig. Her eyes grew glassy and she looked down, her lashes shielding her eyes.

Merlin, this Christmas hadn't been anything like she'd hoped. There were people missing at dinner, people who deserved to be alive and breathing and laughing with them. Children were orphaned, husbands and wives were widowed. Christmas was a time she thought would bring families closer after death, but all it did was serve as a reminder of who was there and who wasn't. She filled her glass and chugged it down again. She almost wished it was a bit stronger. Maybe being in a drunken haze would cheer her up a bit.

After dinner Hermione lay on the sofa with a slightly foggy head, the chatter around her like background music as she took a minute to herself. Looking up at the ceiling, she wondered if every Christmas would be this difficult. Her heart ached imagining Fred's flushed cheeks and wide, open mouth at the dinner table, probably laughing at one of his own jokes. And not only did she miss his pestering and his childish sense of humour, but seeing the people she loved with wobbling chins and tear-filled eyes was something she never wanted to experience again.

It wasn't fair. A boy who put his life on the line for her and other muggle-borns had lost his life? He had so much to live for, so many more memories to make. But in a matter of seconds, all of that was taken away from him.

Harry shook Hermione out of her reverie as he sat on the arm of the sofa. "A penny for your thoughts?" She looked up at him with stormy eyes and sat up abruptly.

"Why isn't Fred here?" Her response clearly shocked him and his mouth dropped open. "Why isn't he sitting across from me now with that stupid grin on his face?" Harry placed a hand on her leg.

"Hermione, please. I know you're upset but you wouldn't want the Weasley's to hear you." Hermione stood up and laughed humourlessly.

"Why do I have to talk about his death as if it was fair, as if it was necessary to get what we wanted?" Everyone had turned to look at her now. "And why did I have to make my parents forget my very existence to make sure they didn't _die_. I may never see them again!" Her mocking laughter soon turned to sobs and her body shook with each breath she drew in. Harry brought her to him and placed his arms around her. She buried her head into his shoulder and whispered over and over in a mantra, "It isn't fair, it isn't fair." Harry guided her out of the room and to her temporary bedroom. They lay together for a while, Harry stoking her arm softly as she sobbed into his shirt. Eventually her crying lessened until her breaths turned slow and steady. Harry got to his feet and took in her petite form before heading downstairs. Seeing her so vulnerable, not at all like the strong woman she usually was, he pondered over his decision of taking up auror training. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all.

He was at a loss. Hermione Granger, the smartest and most resilient girl he knew, had been reduced to a hysterical mess over the thought of the war and the people who had died. Maybe she was feeling a little lost without her parents; as soon as they were found the better. Or maybe because she had been _so _strong during the war, she had a lot of repressed emotions and she wasn't dealing with them well. Whatever it was, Harry hoped it would change soon. He needed the Hermione he knew back.


End file.
